


Letting Go the Old World

by pollybywater



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, running into Alex Krycek felt like scary justice and divine fate, rolled up together with a big red bow.</p><p>Merry Christmas, Fox Mulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go the Old World

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story JennieMcG and I co-wrote for [the Christmas 2008 Nick Lea Character E-Zine.](http://www.nick-lea.com/zines/christmas2008zine/index.html) Good old-fashioned M/K sex and schmoop. *g*

  


LET IT GO!  
LET IT GO!  
THIS OLD WORLD THAT I KNOW

FOR SOON EVERYTHING WILL BE CHANGING  
IN A SINGLE GLANCE  
WHERE IT ALL ENCHANTS  
AND EVERY HOPE  
EVERY HOPE  
EVERY HOPE IS WORTH SAVING

From Christmas Dreams by Trans Siberian Orchestra

  
"Krycek."

He pauses his rather less that steady progress down the sidewalk, bending to peer into my car. "Mulder," he says, an absolute lack of surprise in his voice. "Go away."

And off he goes, back in the direction from which he'd just come.

I put the car in reverse and follow him. I wouldn't say he's staggering. Close, though, very close.

He stops, does a one eighty, and strikes out again. Apparently he really likes this particular stretch of sidewalk.

Pacing him, I follow along, wondering what the hell I think I'm doing following a drunken assassin. Is my life so boring that I've nothing better to do this close to the holidays?

Oh, I suppose I could go shopping. On the other hand, no. Going home and watching porn holds no appeal these days. A situation I should be concerned about. I just can't work up the energy for concern, though. I suppose I could go into the bar I saw Krycek come out of, maybe have a couple of drinks. That would be preferable to going over to Scully's. If there weren't so many other Scullys currently there for Christmas, I'd visit my son, but that's just not an option while his uncles and grandmother visit. I don't want him hearing the things my brothers-in-law usually say to me and I'm tired of feeling guilty when in my opinion I was as big a victim as anybody after the Truth came out.

All things considered, running into Alex Krycek felt like scary justice and divine fate, rolled up together with a big red bow.

Merry Christmas, Fox Mulder.

Krycek stops. Once again he looks into my car, appearing quite amazed to see me there. "Mulder?" He blinks exaggeratedly and looks at me again. I can't help but notice the length of his eyelashes. "What the hell are *you* doing here?"

"Following you, asshole."

"Huh."

That's all he says: "Huh."

Then he reverses direction, and not-quite-staggers away again.

Stops and approaches the passenger-side window of my car a scant moment later. "Say buddy, have you seen a green Acura parked around here?"

"Lost your car, Krycek?" I can't help sniping at him. "Not a good idea, you'll lose your membership to the Assassin's Guild for sheer stupidity." Actually, having said that, I'm almost provoked into worrying about him. Almost. He's certainly in no condition to protect himself, and just because it's all over doesn't mean we both don't have enemies left.

It bothers me when I can't bring myself to count Alex Krycek among mine.

"Fuck!" He steps back, manages to trip over his own feet, and lands on his ass. "Mulder. I shoulda known. What did you do with it?"

I can't stop my eyebrows rising in surprised amusement. A snort of laughter escapes me. "What did *I* do with it? Looks to me like you managed to lose your car without help from anyone but Jack Daniels."

"Ewww. Wassa matter with you, drinking JD? That's some nasty shit." His expression reminds me of the one William's face had worn the time he grabbed a lemon off of the counter and stuffed it in his mouth before anyone could stop him.

I cycle quickly from amused to shocked and appalled when my brain points out Krycek's face looks just as cute.

Trying to think past what I was trying not to think about, which is something I've been trying not to think about for over a decade now, it takes me a moment to notice when a pair of prostitutes approach us, two tall, gorgeous black transvestites stalking over with murder in their eyes.

"You all up here in our faces, taking our business, old man?" the tallest one says to Krycek, towering over him in stiletto heels and looking like clear and present danger.

Krycek oozes up to his feet and transforms from Helpless Drunk to Death so quickly that no one has time to take their next breath. One arm wraps around the head of the prostitute who'd made the threat, hand on her chin baring her throat for a knife that appears out of nowhere.

"Who the fuck are you calling old, bitch?"

He turns her belly toward her companion, effortlessly controlling both and, not coincidentally, covering me simultaneously.

There he is, my Alex Krycek, the same riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma he's always been, the best and worst of the man on arrogant display for me like some kind of object lesson.

This is who I am, screams his body language, the traitor, the killer, the violent man you only think you know.

"I think you owe me an apology," Krycek says, his tone thoughtful as he runs the edge of the blade up and down the tranny's throat, pushing his groin into a high, tight ass. The tranny groans and melts against him, probably the only thing that's saving her life.

I can't apologize for thinking they're hot.

"I'm sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you, you can do me for free."

"I'd pay to watch," flies out of my mouth before I can say what's really on my tongue, which tastes an awful lot like it wants to be "get away from my man". Krycek shocks me again by throwing back his head and laughing, his knife hand never faltering, skimming up and down over the tranny's adam's apple. She moans and rubs her ass into him, an unapologetic hand moving between her thighs.

"You wouldn't have to pay to watch if you participated," Krycek points out between snickers before he lowers his mouth to the tranny's jaw and licks her dark brown skin.

His gaze remains on mine the entire time. Vivid, sparkling, amused and nowhere near as blurry-looking as they had been a few minutes ago.

"I don't think either one of us is going to need your services tonight. Thanks anyway, sweetheart. Now get lost. You're all up in my face."

Krycek spins her out of his arms and into the other tranny's, the knife's edge never lifting off her skin yet never, quite, breaking it, either.

Still looking at me.

"Fuck me," the tranny says reverently, then takes off with a grateful wave and flamboyant bow. "You're a bad motherfucker, I get it. Come see me sometime," she throws over her shoulder as her friend grabs her arm and hustles her down the sidewalk.

Krycek watches all this with a tilted smile, unembarrassed as he adjusts himself. He saunters over to my open passenger window, resting his hands on the door like he's the one experienced with selling himself.

"You come down here and buy often, Mulder?" he asked, tone immediately mocking me into irritation.

"Fuck you, Krycek."

Clenching my jaw to prevent it hitting the steering wheel, I stare as he preens. Jesus H. Christ, he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. My body betrays me, cock filling with blood so fast that I'm dizzy.

"I don't think you can afford my price, Mulder."

"Why not," I hit out in self-defense. "Everyone else in the known world seems to have enough." Yeah, I know. That's below the belt, so to speak, but... Dammit. Why is it I become an angry three-year-old whenever I'm near this man, striking out in blind anger, unable to control my mouth or my fists?

He flutters those obscenely long eyelashes at me. Really, I think a little faintly, those damn things should be registered as lethal weapons. "Jealous, big boy?" he taunts me.

"Disgusted, little man."

"Hmmm," he tilts his head to one side, and considers me for a heartbeat, gaze fixing on my erection, though I *know* he can't actually see it. It feels like he can "Your... *disgust* looks an awful lot like interest, miliy moy."

My Russian doesn't stretch that far, but I suspect he's just insulted me. I'm speechless, my tongue stilled by sheer frustration with this man. He gets to me every time, damn him.

"Get out of my car, asshole," I finally spit out.

Krycek looks around. "I'm not *in* your car."

"Oh." Fuck. No good way out of this one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My warped sense of humor finally gets the better of me, the ridiculousness of our "discussion" tickling my funny bone. "Well then get in the car so I can kick your sorry ass out!"

For a brief moment, I see a glitter of answering amusement in his eyes, then he straightens and smirks at me. "Wouldn't you rather fuck my sorry ass?" he asks, making it obvious he's as hard as I am. "I can call them back if you'd rather have-"

I roll my eyes in disgust, the lean over to unlock the passenger-side door. "Get the fuck in, asshole."

"You know, I think you have a thing for my asshole, ass much as you keep talking about it," Krycek adds, teeth flashing in an evil grin as he delivers his idea of a pun.

My mind flashes back to the glimmer of humor I'd just glimpsed in his eyes, and I wonder... Can I, just for once, turn the tables on him? Catch him off-guard and see what lies beneath his carefully maintained masks?

"You might be right," I admit, just to watch him look surprised. Which, of course, he doesn't do.

Damn him.

He just sits in my passenger-side seat. Actually, 'sits' isn't the word for the elegantly evocative pose he adopts. I must admit that I'd be really impressed if he hadn't started a slow slide down into the foot-well.

"Krycek!"

"Huh, what?" He looks at me with eyes that are once again blurry with drink and whatever else he's ingested this night.

Hmmm. This is looking like my big chance to test my theories. Plainly - for reasons yet unknown - he doesn't consider me a threat at the moment. God alone knows why, and, to tell the truth, I really don't care. I am going to take advantage of his chemically- induced relaxation without shame or remorse. 'In vino, veritas' as they say.

"Get back in your seat and put on your seatbelt." I can't resist adding; "Don't you know the statistics on traffic fatalities caused by not wearing a seatbelt?"

"Pffft." He blows me a raspberry as he slithers back into his seat. Then he turns towards me. "Mulder."

"Yes?"

"Mulder, I'm worried about you."

"You're worried about *me*?"

"Yeah. You just don't know how to have fun. Look," he says with great emphasis on the word look.

I look at him.

"No, no, no. Look at the road, *listen* to me."

I sigh. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Good," he says, nodding emphatically.

"So... "

"So what?"

Has he always been this irritating?

"So, what did you want me to listen to?"

"Oh yeah. Okay, look." I turn to look at him again. "No! Eyes on the road, Mulder. Jesus," he huffs. "Now, listen. You need to learn to have fun, Mulder. To *live*!"

Then he fumbles in the breast pocket of his jacket - which I'll admit makes me more than a little tense - and pulls out... a flask?

Well, isn't that special?!

"Al-, um, Krycek-"

Wide-eyed, he turns swiftly to stare at me. And he giggles. No, really. He giggles. Then he says triumphantly, "I heard that!"

"What? What did you hear?" I'm stalling. This is something I haven't had to practice a lot lately. Maybe that's why he doesn't seem to be falling for it - not if that knowing grin is saying what I think it's saying.

"You almost called me Alex."

He snickers quietly, then looks out of the windshield, squinting to read the road sign ahead. "Where we going?" He asks without bothering to sound at all curious.

"Where do you want to go?" I wonder if it's the same destination I have in mind.

"The Four Seasons," he replies with a heartfelt sigh, slithering all over the seat as he lifts his arms over his head and stretches luxuriously. "I have the Capital suite."

"No you fucking don't," I protest my disbelief, unable to picture Alex Krycek and his ubiquitous black leather jacket in the middle of all that five-star luxury.

"Fucking do," he drawls back, tipping his head over to regard me from beneath his half-closed eyelids. "Speaking of fucking. There's an armchair next to the king-sized bed I'd really like to bend you over. And wait'll you see the tub. Watch the road, Mulder. Get us there alive and I'll show you how to have fun."

I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that and as we turn off towards Wisconsin Avenue, I decide to take him at his word.

The Four Seasons it is.

~~~~~~

Be damned if he isn't telling the truth. I'm pretty fucking impressed by the room. Excuse me, the *suite*. It's incredible. All done up in shades of blue and cream, real art on the walls; it's a far cry from the cheap motels I generally stay in. And, oddly enough, Alex, um, Krycek, looks surprisingly at home in this elegantly appointed room.

I jump when he throws open the french doors leading to the bedroom. "There it is," he announces.

"There what is?"

"The chair."

His lascivious grin prompts me into remembering his comment about bending me over said chair.

Second, third and fourth thoughts assail me. Suddenly, I doubt myself. How far am I willing to go in this quest to see the 'real' Alex Krycek? I'm nervous. Really, really nervous. I mean... Well, I don't make a habit of going to hotels with strange men. Okay, not with men I don't know. Krycek is about as strange as they get, yet I can't help but feel as if, despite the masks he hides behind, in some respects I know him better than I know myself.

"Ah, Krycek." I look around the room, searching for a distraction of some kind. "Look," I say, pointing at the rather large flat screen tv on the far wall. "Let's check out the cable in this joint."

His grin widens. "Mulder, there's a television in the bedroom too."

Oh. In that case, "But the bar is out here, Alex. And I want a drink."

"I have something even better than a drink for you, *Fox*." His grin morphs into a leer.

Dammit. I need more time. I need more time.

And could I sound more like a shrinking virgin? Fuck. Have I mentioned that I'm nervous?

He blithely ignores my glare, walking closer to me and leaning in to whisper in my ear, "C'mon, Mulder. Live a little. It'll be... amazing, you and me. You know it as well as I do."

A shiver runs down my spine. I'm definitely interested. With my jeans getting tighter and tighter at the thoughts going through my mind, I can hardly deny that. It's just ... Well, this is huge. Life-altering. Scary as hell. Something about the way Krycek - oh, hell, Alex - has always looked at me tells me that this won't be a one night thing.

And I suddenly realize I don't want it to be. God help me, but I've missed Alex Krycek. The years I had believed him dead were among the worst years of my life.

Not that I plan to tell him that.

To hell with nerves. And, to the very depths of hell with reservations and second thoughts. I reach deep inside for the old Mulder. The man who'd made a habit of rushing in where only fools dared tread. And, to my pleased surprise, he's not all that difficult to find.

The grin that spreads across my face must have been something to see, because Alex's eyes widen and regard me with incredible predatory clarity, piercing right straight through me to my balls.

"You know you want me," Alex said breathily. It's not a question or a challenge, it's - total and utter shock, judging from the momentary flash of slack surprise he's allowing me to see.

Just before his face flushes red and he turns away.

Ah, yes. There it is. The mask slips again. With an inward cheer of triumph, I let myself do what I - with a sudden flash of clarity - realize I've been wanting to do for more years than I care to count right now. I let my own masks go, allowing all of my doubts, desires, dreams, and fears to show in my eyes. My voice is vibrant with barely suppressed emotion.

"Wanting you was never the problem, Alex. Keeping you was."

Even I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I watch as Alex's shoulders draw up as if he expects a beating ... then he visibly wills himself to relax, slipping off his black leather jacket and sauntering towards the mini-bar.

"Name your poison, Mulder. I'm having vodka." He sounds like he needs it.

"Vodka works," I reply, copying his pseudo-relaxed attitude.

He pulls out a bottle of Zyr and pours with rock-steady hands, balance caught and casual attitude wrapped back around him.

But I can see past that now. When he hands me my glass, I stroke the backs of his fingers as I take it and feel him shiver in reaction.

"Za Vas!" he says, toasting me before belting back his drink.

The moment I've been waiting for.

"To playing for keeps," I say and watch him choke while I enjoy drinking my excellent vodka.

"Son of a bitch, that burns," he moans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Taking advantage of his eyes being closed, I move in, set our glasses aside, and put my hands on the sides of his face, ignoring the way he freezes, coiled to strike.

Because I also know, with stunning clarity, that Alex would never - will never - hurt me.

There should be a word for how it feels to have his skin under my hands - right where I've always wanted him, to be honest with myself about it. I stroke my palms over Alex's jawbone, appreciated the scrub of his stubble, and see the way his pulse pounds at the base of his neck. He's watching me, now, a flush of pink coloring his cheekbones and eyes all pupil, mouth open on a silent gasp of air, body taut with that animal air of absolute and ready stillness.

"You gonna let me keep you, Alex?" I whisper over his lips, slipping my thumb into the corner of his mouth until I can feel wet heat, a sharp canine, and the tip of a curious tongue.

His eyes widen at my question. In fact, he's looking pretty stunned, there, so I decide to move on before he has a chance to gather his defenses. Holding his eyes with mine, I gasp as he pulls my thumb into his mouth and starts to gently suck. And, damn, his mouth is hot. "Mmm, Alex," I murmur.

He releases my thumb and tilts his head slightly, offering his mouth to mine. Next thing I know, we're kissing. I don't remember either of us moving, but move we must have, because suddenly we're connected from lips to knees.

And, dear god, it's good. Better than it's ever been for me. For Alex, too, I suspect, because he's making desperate, wanting sounds, deep in his throat, his body moving against mine urgently.

I'm lost. Lost in his kiss. Nothing exists beyond his lips against mine, his tongue mapping my mouth, his hips pushing against me insistently.

And, hey, where did my shirt go, I wonder. You'd think I'd notice something like that, but who cares, anyway, because his is gone, too, and there's skin. Hot, silken skin, available to my touch, my tongue.

Sinking to my knees, I lick my way down the expanse of his chest. He moans in response and I look up into his lust-dazed eyes, right hand on the waistband of his jeans, left stroking and kneading along a lean, well-muscled thigh.

Silently, because I don't think I can talk at the moment, I let my eyes ask questions. What do you need, Alex? What do you want from me?

Whoa. I stop all movement, gaping at him, amazed at the sight before me. He's blushing. Not flushed with passion, as I know I am. He's *blushing*, and his eyes, his magnificent eyes, are suddenly shy. Darting away from my face to stare intently at my hand, still resting near the snap to his jeans, then back to me again, his eyelashes flutter with his instinctive need to hide his emotions.

Wow. I think he thought I'd... I'm not sure exactly what he thought; probably that I'd be doing the usual by now. You know, using my fists to pound on him, using my words to cut at him, laughing at him for thinking I'd ever actively desire this kind of intimacy with him.

At this moment, I can't imagine ever wanting anyone else.

"Alex," I say, keeping my voice gentle as I lean in and nuzzle the hard length of his erection, pressing kisses on the rigid heat beneath bulging denim. Alex groans, twisting away from me until I finally fill my hands with his taut round ass, holding him in place. I can't wait to get him naked. I can't wait to get him, period. "Alex."

He leans into me, apparently weak at the knees, and opens his mouth to answer, but no sound emerges. He can't seem to get past the sight of me on my knees, my mouth on him.

"Alex," I try again, "I want you, Alex."

How we end up horizontal on the floor will be a mystery to me later, but somehow I'm flat on my back and he's holding me, covering me, keeping my head off the floor with his hands, bearing most of his weight on his elbows and where his groin rocks into mine. The metallic teeth of our zippers grate against each other, and his teeth bite the side of my neck as he growls against me, no longer holding anything back.

"Fox," he moans into my skin, moving against me helplessly while I? I'm wrapping my legs around his and writhing up into him, my hands still squeezing his ass, growling right along with him.

"Mine, mine, mine, goddamnit, you are mine, Alex," I declare before rolling him over and biting back, shoving my cock against his, so hard it hurts, and it hurts so fucking, fucking good. I hold on just long enough to see his face as he starts coming, covering his mouth with his own hand to muffle a howl, blind with pleasure and arching into me and God, I want to do this again somewhere he can make all the noise he wants - then my own climax strikes like a tornado, battering me with intensity I've never felt before.

I come close to blacking out, a reaction I'd once thought a fiction. I come to ... more or less ... still wrapped in Alex's arms. He's pressing frantic kisses to the side of my face, his body keeping me securely off the floor, whispering Russian words under his breath. Words that I just happen to recognize.

Yours, my Fox. I love you, I'm yours. Always yours.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," I inform him before helping myself to a wet, sloppy kiss.

I brace my hands on either side of his head and raise myself up. I want to see. I need to see what he looks like in the aftermath of such passion and, dear god, I've never seen anything like the expression I behold. He's flushed with the intensity of our coming together, a glitter in his eyes that just might be the moisture of tears denied. Lush eyelashes flutter as he turns his head to one side and closes his eyes. His tongue sneaks out to swipe over his lips and I know what he's tasting because it's the same thing I taste. Us. Us together. Finally, we're an us.

I wonder if he realizes that. If he knows as surely as I know. We aren't just Mulder and Krycek, reluctant veterans of the war to save our planet. No, we're Fox and Alex. Alex and Fox. How weird is that? I don't mind. He called me Fox and I didn't even flinch. Hell, he can call me any fucking thing he wants as long as he calls me.

Rolling off to sprawl on the floor beside him, I wince as the wet spot inside my jeans becomes noticeable. Damn, I came in my pants just like a kid. I think I might be a tad bit embarrassed by that, but wait, he did the same thing. I am overcome with awe that I could make him lose control to such an extent. I did that, I think as I dance my fingers lightly over his pelvis.

Alex is ticklish, I gleefully realize when he convulsively curls into a protective ball, twisting away with a quickly suppressed yelp of laughter. I follow his movement, running my fingers up his torso, causing him to make more noises before he rises to his feet in a flash of motion.

"Where you goin'?" I ask, resting on my elbows and enjoying the sight of a flustered Alex Krycek and the darkened damp spot at his crotch.

"C'mon, Mulder," he says, holding out one hand in an offer to help me up. "I have some clean sweats in the bedroom."

"The bedroom, huh?" I try to leer suggestively at him, but I don't think I quite succeed because a snort of laughter is definitely not the reaction I'm looking for here.

"Yes, Casanova, the beeedrooom." He wiggles his eyebrows in a fair imitation of Groucho Marx and leers far more successfully than I'd done.

"Smartass," I say comfortably, willing to let him lighten the intensity between us and get himself on a more even keel.

He shrugs. "Move it, Mulder. These jeans are really uncomfortable." He grimaces, and leads the way into the bedroom. I pay little attention to the lavish furnishings, too busy trying to figure out why he'd backslid from 'Fox' to 'Mulder' and realize he's just as off-balance as I am, instinctively pulling back. I decide to allow him his illusion of putting a bit of space between us and follow him.

I can easily afford to. I've made my point.

"You hungry?" he asks as he casually drops his jeans to the floor, stepping over to his suitcase, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and tossing one in my direction.

"Famished," I reply, realizing with a start that I am starved. "I've worked up an appetite and I'm going to need to keep my strength up."

He ducks his head and snickers, pausing beside the house phone and calling room service, rattling off two orders of New York Strip and baked potato. His choice of asparagus has my eyebrows rising but it's the rum baba he requested for dessert that had my skin tingling. The look in his eyes suggests he has plans for that. A mental picture of him licking it off of my skin has me shivering with want.

I have no problem with any of that, putting an extra sway into my hips as I pass him on my way to the bathroom and start opening my jeans. Fortunately, I remember my shoes in time to sit before I hobble myself, perching on the marble ledge of the tub surround, kick off my sneakers, peel off my socks - then, finally, off with the jeans. I sit back and part my thighs, naked and waiting.

It takes Alex a few moments to follow me. He shows up barefoot, pausing at the door, the light pouring over his bare shoulders, his sweats barely clinging to the points of his pale hips. I can clearly see his cock, lovingly outlined by the soft jersey material. I smell him, and all I want is to learn how he tastes. I'm on my knees reaching for him before I know what I'm doing, swaying towards him and he's coming to me, humming as his hands clench on my shoulders.

"Mmm, god, what you do to me when you look like that," he says, squeaking by the end because I'm licking him, tracing the outline of his erection hungrily, impatient with the material keeping me from the pure essence of him.

"Fox," he murmurs throatily. "Fox."

For the first time in my life, my name sounds like it's being sung in praises and I like it. Inspired, I go on licking my way along his lengthening erection, pushing his sweats down, out of the way, to his thighs ... so my hands can cup and weigh his balls and marvel at how good it feels to touch all of him like this. Part of me is still stuck on 'how did I not know how much I want this?' and part of me wonders how soon we can do it again.

Not giving Alex a chance to kick out of his sweats, I stroke my palms over his amazing ass and down his thighs as I linger on his shaft. He throws his head back, groaning like he's being stabbed, one hand shooting out to anchor us on the marble countertop which I suppose is a good thing; a head injury would be inconvenient.

"Hold on tight, Alex," I warn just before taking him in my mouth, letting my tongue swirl around the plump head of his cock, suckling at the pre-come spilling out of him. He's on the edge already, from no more than this, proving once again he's as crazy for me as I have apparently always been for him, and I swallow him deeper, my watering mouth easing his path to the back of my throat.

Swearing something I can't exactly hear over my own stifled moans - Alex was satisfying kinks I'd tried to forget I had - his other hand grabs me by the hair and holds me as he pulls back, lets me breathe once, then strokes back in, our gazes locked as I take him all the way and willingly, wantonly suffocate myself on him ... hardly needing to touch myself before we both come and come and come.

Huddled together on the bathroom floor is not the most uncomfortable way to recover from a shattering orgasm, but it's definitely in the top... one. I groan and try to shift my legs.

"Mmph," he grumbles from somewhere around my chest.

"Alex," I shrug my shoulder in a gentle nudge. "Alex, I'm not as young as I once was, you know. This floor is killing my knees."

He moves away, and falls with not-quite-controlled grace back onto his ass. With his sweats still bunched around his ankles, tousled hair - thanks to my greedy fingers - and his lips reddened and swollen he looks... Damn. If I weren't forty-we-won't-mention-how-much, I'd get hard again just looking at him.

"Shower?" I ask, interrupting his reverie.

"Hmm?," he stares at me blankly for a beat, then seems to shake himself like a sleepy dog. "What M-, um, Fox?"

I see that I still have a little work to do. Realizing that trust has been in just as short supply in his life as it has in mine, I resolve to allow him time to come to terms with all of this.

"Shower."

"Oh. Okay." He climbs to his feet with a stifled groan and a little less grace than is usual for him. I hide a grin. I'm not the only one on the wrong side of forty in this relationship.

And, wow. I know I'm sitting there with my jaw slack, stunned understanding on my face. I have a relationship. With Alex Krycek.

Doesn't that just beat all?

I finally gather my wits - or what's left of them - and get off the floor. Resting a casual hand on his hip, I lean past him to adjust the water temperature. He drops his sweats on the floor, so I gesture him ahead of me and...

He's oblivious as he steps into the large shower stall, turning sideways to me and arching his head back to let the water cascade over his face and down his body. His dark hair forms a sleek cap around his head, droplets of water catch and shimmer on his eyelashes, and the falling water only serves to emphasize the dips and planes of his form.

My breath catches in my throat and I stare in stunned disbelief at what I behold. I believe I have found religion. Yes. Its name is Alex Krycek.

As my eyes lovingly trace his form, silently devouring the sheer visual decadence of Alex in the shower, the AC kicks on, sending cool air breezing across parts of me that signal deep disapproval with a blanket of goosebumps. And what the hell am I doing out here when I could be in there with him? Touching. Tasting. Loving.

Claiming what's mine.

He might not truly understand the depth of my newly-found commitment, but I do. And I plan to spend hours, days, years convincing him of my dedication to my new religion.

I step into the shower, moving close behind him. I have to say I'm a little surprised that he doesn't flinch at my arrival, but then, this is Alex Krycek. Yeah, his eyes have been closed as he enjoys the perfect heat of the water, but I'm a fool if I really think he hasn't been completely aware of exactly where he is, where I am, and most likely what my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature are.

I wait silently, giving him time to adjust to an intimacy that I feel sure he has allowed few, if any. My reward comes after two, maybe three, beats of my heart. Without appearing to move, he has somehow done just that. And, yeah, he fits himself back against me like the missing part of me I only realized this very night is him. His form is slickly wet and warm, sending signals to parts of my body that really should be quite asleep for tonight.

Fuck Viagra. It appears that all my body needs is an infusion of Alex.

"Alex," I breathe reverently into his ear as I melt against his back. "Alex."

My hands move to take the soap from him, and I begin lathering him. Smooth skin caresses my hands, as I revel in the slick, almost hairless expanse of his chest. "You feel so good, Alex. Imagine... Oh god, Alex, imagine how it's gonna be when we... mmm, Alex, It'll be so-"

With a deep sigh, he leans more heavily into me and puts his hands on top of mine. "More," he moans.

"More what? What do you want?" My hands continue to learn him, skimming over his torso, slowing at the spots that cause involuntary twitches from him.

"You. Your... ah," he gasps, losing his language skills for a moment as my hand slides carefully over one nipple. "Oh. Your words. Your... your voice. Please, Mulder."

He turns his head so that I can speak directly into one shell-shaped ear.

My voice? Well, well. I think I might have stumbled on something here. Taking note of the fact that he has once again reverted to using my surname, I gentle my motions even more and move my lips softly against that ear.

"Oh, Alex," I sigh. "I never realized how much I wanted you. Never looked at my actions, never saw. Now, though... mmm. I want you, Alex. All of you. So much, Alex." He's shivering in reaction, whether to my words or simply the vibration of my voice, I'm not sure. Hopefully, both.

"Alex," again, he shivers. Carefully, my hands slide down, past his hips and as far down his thighs as I can manage in this position. "God, you are so... Oh, Alex," and yes, right on cue, a shiver. Every time I say his name. I like that.

"Alex." I repeat as just the tips of my fingers brush against the very impressive erection he's sporting.

This earns me a shudder. I wonder...

"Mmm, Alex, you feel so good against me." I move my hips, nudging his ass very carefully with my hard cock. "Close your eyes for me, Alex." His lashes flicker for a second, then fall to rest lushly against his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's it, Alex. Close your eyes, let your mind go for now. It's just us, Alex. You and me." I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he relaxes even more, releasing tension he'd been holding as a last defense, I'd guess. "That's it. Just us. You're safe here with me. I'll keep you safe, Alex."

Not only does that get me a shudder, I get the added bonus of a low whine. "You are so beautiful to me right now, Alex. So beautiful." And he is. The trust he's offering me is... it overwhelms me. Humbles me. Frightens the living shit out of me. But, right now, in this moment, I shove these feeling aside, and concentrate on my Alex.

I'll deal with the rest later.

"Ah, Alex. What you do to me," I whisper hotly in his ear. With a bit more urgency, I press myself against the smooth skin of his back and ass. And, oh, he feels so perfect. So... he is what I've been longing for in the depths of my soul. His actions and words thus far tonight would indicate that he feels something similar. I hope.

His head falls back against my shoulder, and his hips are thrust forward making his cock appear to search for a touch. My touch. He's getting close, I think. Very close.

"Yesss," I hiss. "Yes, Alex. that's it. Show me. Feel it. Imagine it. How it will feel when I'm inside of you. Filling you. Loving you."

He moans urgently and whispers my name huskily, "Fox. Fox, please."

I know. I know exactly what he needs. And I give it to him. My hand moves to cover him, pressing his erection flat against his belly. I hold him firmly while he undulates against me, first pressing back against me, then pushing forward into my hand.

"Alex, yeah, Alex. Do it for me. Come for me, Alex. Come for me right now."

It appears that my words work as well for him as they do for me. Of course, I only realize this when I open my eyes an unknown amount of time later to find us both kneeling, slumped together, on the floor again, warm water still pouring over us both.

~~~~~

"If we're gonna do this, there have to be some rules."

"Neither of us do rules, Alex," I remind him, speaking into the smooth hard bulge of his intact left bicep and thanking God for Jeremiah Smith and room service. Dinner had been wonderful.

We'd stretched out on the bed, naked with our bellies full and sleepy with it. Lying beside Alex, being so vulnerable with him, skin to skin - it feels like everything I've ever really wanted, a privilege I want to earn, over and over.

I sigh, content. Sated.

The fingers of Alex's left hand burrow into my hair, holding me still so he can scoot down and take my mouth, kissing me hard. His tongue plunges in to twine around mine and suck and ... I'm hard, so needy so fucking fast that I'm reeling, weak in his arms as he ravishes me, his right hand palming my ass and pulling me against him. Such passion for me overwhelms me - I can't open my legs to him fast enough, wanting all of him - groaning when he tears himself away and puts about a foot of mattress between us.

I don't know how I can want him this much again - then again, I think I do.

"Rules," he insists shakily, eyes dark, lust-filled and fixed on mine. "If we're going to do this for keeps." He doesn't look like he believes what's coming out of his mouth, either. I know the feeling.

"Okay." I take his precious left hand and kiss his long fingers. He has such beautiful hands. "I, Fox, take thee, Alex, for better, for worse." We've already lived through the 'worse' part, so I can't help but invite him to laugh with me here. He does, beautifully, white teeth flashing in that angelic smile I must admit I adore. "For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others. Keeping only unto you as long as we both shall live."

Knowing that I mean every single word puts something in my voice that has tears welling up in Alex's eyes. He's staring at me in wonder, so much pure loving awe written all over his face that my heart literally stumbles in my chest. I have to take a deep breath before I can go on, humbled at giving him this with just me. He looks like all his Christmases came rolled up together, like dreams come true, and I just want to keep being those things for him for the rest of our lives.

"I love you, Alex."

Alex draws closer, putting our foreheads together so his words breathe out over my face, warmth sinking into me along with his vows.

"I, Alex, take thee, Fox, forsaking all others, keeping only unto thee. With my body I thee worship and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. Forever. For keeps. I love you, too, Fox."

I *know* he does. It's the most amazing feeling in the world, feeling loved. Believing it.

He kisses me then; it's nothing like the last time, like nothing I've ever experienced. His lips and tongue cherish mine, gently tasting every inch of flesh and sealing promises, sweetly demonstrating how precious I am to him. My thighs turn to water while the rest of me spontaneously combusts, wanting him to fuck me so damned bad it feels like my guts are about to turn inside out. Alex continues making ardent love to my mouth, his wonderful kisses warming from delicate reverence to famished need when I encourage him by moaning. Alex kisses me without stopping, even when I artfully drag him on top of me, writhing into his welcome weight. It sends lightning bolts up my spine.

I know if I reach down and line up our cocks it'll be all over with, so I force myself to put my hands on his hips and push him back.

"If you don't fuck me now I'm going to kill you," I say into his mouth. He draws back to beam at me, visibly pleased at getting me to stoop to threats. "Alex, please tell me you have lube." I pinch his nipple and watch his lips part on a low hiss.

Looking at me from beneath his eyelashes, Alex lets me see what I do to him, and there's just no way I'll ever get enough of this. Of him. Of being - *wanted* - so much.

"Hurry up and fuck me. It's our honeymoon."

I see my words soak in, marking a trembling smile before Alex clambers over me unceremoniously to reach into a bedside table. Lube, kleenex, and baby wipes find sites in easy reach.

Catching my - not completely happy - surprise at his preparedness, Alex's grin becomes a little embarrassed.

"I don't have condoms. I lay in bed at night with my dick in my hand, thinking of you. I always ... think of you, Fox. I haven't actually *been* with anybody in years."

His painstakingly offered honesty shreds me. I can't say the same, although it's not like I've been out catting around. Scully and I are only a few months past the booty-call stage of our divorce, is all, so it has been a while, just not ... years.

Wow.

"I didn't want anybody else," he continues, on his knees beside me as he just - looks at me. His eyes touch like fingers as they smooth over my rampant hard-on and I twitch under his gaze as if begging. Which I am about to.

"For godssakes, Alex, please fuck me now."

He flows over me like water, rolls me over and covers my back, licks along my spine and digs knots out of adjacent muscles until it feels like he's knuckles deep in my glutes, licking my crease, rimming my hole until I have to bury my face in a pillow to muffle my hoarse shouts. Everything he does to my ass is so incredibly good I keep getting surprised, wondering how I ever had myself convinced that I was mostly straight.

His thumbtips press into me, making a place for his tongue to spear in. I yell - Alex tells me later it was more like screaming - and try to screw my ass onto his tongue, totally, fuckingly out of control, wanting more of him in my ass. Inside me. Now.

I'm vaguely aware when Alex lubes himself - I'm not worried, I know he'll take care of me - and I'm begging before he even touches me again, rubbing slippery fingers across my anus and pushing slick into my hole. I could come from this but Alex won't let me, urging me up on my knees so I can't rub my cock off on the bed.

"Please, Alex."

"Now, my Fox. Now."

He doesn't thrust his way in, exactly. It felt more like being conquered, one long, slow, inexorable glide aimed directly at my heart. The pressure and burn feels incredible to my anxious body, filling empty places I didn't know I had. His hands travel up my sides to hook over my shoulders as he bottoms out in me and sobs - Alex Krycek sobs - his open mouth against the side of my neck electrifying. I push back greedy for every bit of him and feel him come, his cock pulsing strong and hard, jerking powerfully inside me as he groans like he's dying. It's all I need to put me over, coming so hard it feels like my spine is being ripped out through my balls.

~~~~~

It's well into morning by the time I wake up and the only thing I can do for long minutes, despite my loudly complaining bladder, is lie there and smile as I watch Alex. He has one of those faces that loses years and age at rest, making him look very much like the young agent I'd-

Oh.

I'd fallen in love with. I can see it now, twenty-twenty hindsight making it clear. I'd fallen in love with Agent Alex Krycek about the time he'd shot and killed Augustus Cole to save my life, only I didn't know what I was feeling, back then.

I've smartened up a lot over the years, apparently.

"Coooofffffeeeeee," Alex intones without opening his eyes, his voice trying to sound like he's using Jedi mind tricks to compel me towards the en suite coffeemaker.

"Yes, Master," I reply obediently, laughing. I lean over and drop a kiss on his warm mouth before sliding out of the bed. "Since I'm heading for the bathroom anyway," I add and watch him grin.

Happy looks good on him. God knows it feels good to me. Merry Christmas Eve.

~~~~~

Breakfast - room service, again - and a pot of excellent coffee later, neither one of us is smiling. We haven't been since I asked Alex to come with me to pick up William tomorrow afternoon. Alex is giving me that look that says he thinks I'm seriously crazy. Haven't seen that one in a while, haven't missed it.

"Look, Mulder, I just don't see this ending well. Look, you have a great time with your kid and when he goes back to Scully's I'll-"

"What, see me on the down low? Sorry, no, and that's Mulder-Krycek, thank you very much." I was quite aware I was completely deflecting Alex's quite valid arguments but I was as firmly committed to mine. "Playing for keeps, remember? That means William meets you-"

"And does what? Goes home and tells Mommy all about the bad touching going on over at Daddy's house? Get real, Mulder."

"As real as it gets, Krycek. I'm sure we can watch the PDAs in front of my-" I grin at him then and feel it turn positively evil. Alex has the sense to go pale. "-that would be *our* kid, since you're now his de facto stepdad, which is why you should come with me to pick him up."

"Oh shit," Alex breathed, dropping one hand over his eyes. "I know a lot about how not to do it. That's all I can promise on that front. I don't know much about kids, except, you know, being one, once. I just think ... you can't just drop this on Scully in front of her family or put it on the kid to tell her. That's not fair to either one of them."

There was a 'been there, done that' tone in his voice that sounded like miles of bad memories.

"What the hell happened to your moral dipstick, anyway?" I grumble, glad when he hears the tease in my voice and moves his hand to look at me, his mouth tipping into a faint smile.

"Got an oil change. Literally." For just an instant, there's something haunted in his gaze, something else I recognize we share, that intimate first-hand awareness of how carelessly humanity would be handled by extraterrestrial masters. I could believe it would alter Alex's world-view because I knew how affected I'd been by what had happened to me. I'm sure being helpless at an EBE's mercy had the same tremendously focusing effect on him.

"We survived," I remind us both, hitching my hands in his waist band and pulling him close. Nothing else is more important than having Alex close to me. That's why I want him to go with me to pick up William but he's also right. Being pre-emptively accused of unfairness rankles a little, which is usually one of the things I like about Alex - he always makes me consider more sides to any given subject than I would have by myself - except, of course, when it's actually happening. Then, not so much. It scrapes.

But I'll never take those feelings out on Alex again, I silently swear to us both.

"Okay, compromise. I'll call her and ask her to meet me for coffee before I pick up William. You'll wait here to meet him."

"She might refuse your visitation. I know you've kept things friendly up to now. This could ruin that. Are you sure you want to- out yourself? You don't have to."

Don't do something that's going to make you hate me again. I'm almost certain I hear him cry the words inside my mind and my throat closes up with his pain. I throw myself to my knees in front of him, burying my face in his warm groin and wrapping my arms around his marvelous ass. It's a testament to how fucked out we are when he doesn't get hard.

"Fox?"

"Alex, you're it for me, don't you get that by now? I can live without Scully. I do, and truth is, I prefer it. I can live without William. I've already missed years of his life. But I can't live without you, not now, not ever again. I won't. They'll adapt to me - to *us* - or they can just fuck off and that includes everybody I know *except* you. Forsaking all others. Get it? Got it?"

"Good!" Alex finishes, snickering as he curls over my back and begins to pet my head and shoulders. I haven't stopped clutching us together and my demonstrated position is beginning to tickle his funny bone. "I love you, Fox."

"I love you, too. I don't intend to miss a day of us. Not for anyone."

I don't have to see to know that his eyes are watering - one of the best surprises about this whole crazy thing has been discovering how emotional my cold-hearted Russian assassin really is - nor do I need to hear his little sniff to confirm it.

"I can't bend over like this, it's killing my sinuses," Alex informs me roughly, kissing my ear before straightening.

"Yeah, that's what it is, sinuses!" I say in my best Jon Lovitz voice and feel like I hung the moon when he bursts out laughing. God, I love to hear that sound from him. Being the one who makes him laugh takes me right to my own happy place, feeding a hunger in my soul that has gone unsatisfied since my sister's abduction. It feels that deep, that important.

"I have to go shopping," he announces as if he's telling me he has a terminal illness, eyes still bright with good humor giving lie to his glum tone. "What do kids William's age like, anyway? Did you put up a tree at your place? We gotta have a tree. And food. I bet you don't have any."

"What are you going to get me?" I ask instead of answering his questions or protesting the horror of shopping on Christmas Eve. Yikes. Still, I'll go anywhere with Alex - even the mall - just to be with him, and it's fun to watch him get like this, excited and a little nervous, his mind working a mile a minute.

"You got your Christmas present last night, miliy moy."

"What does that mean?"

"'My sweet'," he replies to my cringe.

"Geez, Alex, mushy much?"

"More than you know, Fox. How about wedding rings?"

I'm smiling again. I think I'm going to break my face if I keep this up.

~~~~~

Imagine my surprise when shopping with Alex turned out to be fun. After picking up Alex's car - which we left at the Four Seasons for the valet to park - and hitting Toys-R-Us for William, we ended up wandering Old Town, poking our noses into jewelry stores and antique shops. Alex was incredibly receptive of my need to simply walk around being 'out', never seeming to mind when I wanted to hold his hand or steal a kiss. In fact, he appeared to thrive on my attentions, his cold public facade melting away every time I smiled at him or called him by name.

We found matching titanium 'rope' bands we both liked and when I put mine on Alex's finger, he was positively incandescent. I was never so glad to live nearby as when I dragged him out of that shop.

I'd bought a three bedroom townhome in Alexandria - no Freudian message there, huh? - back when Scully, William and I were still trying to play happy families. After the divorce, she decided she wanted a house for her and William farther out in the 'burbs so I decided to keep the townhome just to provide a familiar place for my son's visitation.

"This place doesn't look like you," Alex notes as I drag him through the elegantly appointed front part of the house - Scully had hired a decorator - to the more casual family room in the back, where I'd set up an authentic Charlie Brown Christmas tree with about seven ornaments and a string of lights just to see William laugh about it. "This does," Alex adds with audible satisfaction as I push him onto the sofa - *my* sofa, retrieved from storage - then crawl on top of him. I don't even let him take his jacket off first or bother removing mine.

His arms immediately wrap around me and hold me close, giving me the impression he needs to feel me as much as I need to feel him.

I put my face against his throat and give out a shuddering sigh, breathing my Alex in - leather, faint traces of salty sweat and some aftershave he'd tested on himself earlier, but underneath, essential Alex - letting his scent wash away the crawly sensation left over from being around crowds of strangers. I know he feels it from the way he breathes me in, too. His arms tighten around my back.

"This is nice," he says into my hair but there's something tight in his voice that rings alarm bells in my brain. I kiss his neck and lift my head to see his face, he closes his eyes, fast - but not fast enough, because I've already noticed how shiny wet they are. Sure enough, tears slide out from underneath his lashes and if I wasn't already in love with him this would have done me in.

"Alex?"

"This has been ... the best day. And last night," he begins hesitantly, still looking at the backs of his eyelids instead of me. "I used to dream-" He strangles on the last word, chin going up as he tries to turn his face from me, tries to hide himself away, and it's just intolerable. I shift around, get a hand up to his jaw, and turn him back, stroking my thumb over the bottom lip he's biting into, apparently to keep it from quivering.

He's killing me.

"It's not a dream, Alex, and it's not even the best day. It's only the first day of the rest of our lives," I tell him with great sincerity but I know he catches the humor in my tone when he starts snickering.

He looks at me with this immense affection blazing in his eyes, gratefully taking the lifeline I'd thrown with the cliche.

"You're something else, Fox Mulder," he says, hands on my head bringing our mouths together.

Kissing Alex is amazing - it's different every time and I already know it will never get old. This time he brushes our lips together and tease mine apart like he's never kissed me before, seducing me all over again with his unapologetic physicality. His pelvis pushes up into mine - we're both hard - and I groan around his tongue when he puts one hand on my ass and *pulls*. I'm delirious with how good Alex makes me feel.

"Fox, I want you to fuck me on your sofa," he says against my mouth and I have no idea why I'm surprised he noticed. I should have known he would.

That crazy smile bursts over my face, irrepressible. I think he can tell I don't have a problem with his request.

"Naked," I agree, nodding just to rub our faces together. "I've been wanting to see you naked on this sofa for about ten million years." I lift myself off him before he can stop me and start stripping, toeing off my sneakers and socks and standing to get rid of the rest. The room's a little cool - I hit the remote for the electric fireplace and crank up the heat; it's one of the few additions made by Scully's decorator I actually like - before I shed my jacket and reach out to take his.

He sits up on the edge of the sofa, hands me his ... unusually heavy ... jacket, gives me kind of a cross-eyed sideways look, then takes off his boots ... and an ankle holster and a knife sheathe ... which he politely slides under the sofa with a little cough and a faint smirk aimed in my direction.

I have to shake my head, wondering what else he has in his arsenal. I'm not going to ask.

"Hey. I'll pick up my car in the morning and lock that shit up in the trunk before you bring William home," Alex promises and I smile at him.

"I know." I haven't had one moment's concern that Alex might somehow be careless with his weapons around my son. I doubt Alex ever does careless with weapons. "I have a gun safe upstairs," I point out and start pulling my shirts - sweatshirt and tee - over my head, obscuring my vision of him just long enough for him to move towards me and lay his palms on my bare chest. I freeze as the heat of his hands sears a path to my groin, making my balls ache, stupid shirts stuck halfway up my face.

"Fox, love, stand like this, just for a minute ... like your hands are bound over your head ... like you're blindfolded ... let me touch you, my Fox, miliy moy. You're so fucking beautiful, bozhe moy, you're beautiful. I love you so much." Alex breathes the words out over my throat, hands on my fly opening my jeans, shoving them down with my boxers. I feel the air displace and know Alex is kneeling at my feet and oh, god, I have to see.

I tear the shirts off and throw them - somewhere - my eyes only for Alex, whose brilliant gaze is fixed on my face, waiting for me to look at him ... then he slides his mouth over the end of my cock and just. doesn't. stop. He takes me into his throat, hot and wet and so, so tight when he swallows and his palate ripples over my flesh.

Vaguely aware I'm babbling a lot of "godalexgodalexgodyes" I touch Alex's face so I can feel myself slide into his mouth. I don't try to hold him or direct him - he definitely doesn't need any directions - almost squeaking when he works his tongue against the underside of my cock as he draws off to breathe.

"Too much of that, you're gonna have to wait for me to fuck you," I warn, barely coherent and only on my feet because Alex has his hands on my ass balancing me upright.

"I'm not waiting so you better not come," he orders before he does it again! Swallows me down to the root, buries his nose in my pubic hair, and rubs his chin against my balls, just holding me inside him for a long minute before pulling off. Slowly. With a lot of extraneous tongue and moaning, which takes me so close to coming I have to reach under him and yank myself away from the edge.

"Goddamnit, Alex!" I complain and he laughs as he plants a sucking kiss on my cockhead that just about undoes all my hard work.

He scrambles to his feet and strips off his clothes, reaching into his jeans' pocket and producing a couple of packets of what I assume is lube before tossing his jeans aside, not that I can say I noticed where they went because I was too busy looking at him. Alex is so much more when he's naked, broad-shouldered, full-chested, long-limbed and muscular ... and when he's naked and erect - for me, from going down on me - the sight triggers something deep in my bones, something instinctual that makes me want to fuck him through the floor.

Alex shivers. This powerful man shivers from what he sees in my eyes, his own gaze going heavy and dark.

"Oh, yeah," he whispers, dipping his head in a move I find unexpectedly, delightfully submissive. He turns and kneels on the sofa, drops the lube next to him, and plants his hands on the top of the backrest. Against the leather, his skin is pale and glows, his pretty ass on full display.

"Oh, yeah," I echo mindlessly, already there with my hands out, each one cupping a sweetly curved taut cheek. I slide my cock along his crease and he's groaning, now, arching his back to shove his ass into me.

"Fox, please."

"Please what?" I manage, making myself let go of his ass long enough to grab a packet of lube. My hands shake as I open it. "What do you want, Alex?" I want to hear him tell me as I rub the slick over his hole, trying not to imagine how it's going to feel around my cock when I slide one finger inside him. He's so hot inside, so tight and smooth...

"Ahh, yes. You. You, Fox. Want you in me. Fuck me," Alex demands throatily, moving his knees a little farther apart and rocking back for more. "Fuck me now."

I can't resist. My days of resisting this man are long gone. Slathering the last of the lube over my anxious cock, I brace us both and push in, crying out with him as I pop past his sphincter, barely managing not to come as his body slowly gives way and allows me entrance.

The pressure and heat that surrounds me is simply incredible, beyond my ability to describe. Alex is as inarticulate as I am; the only recognizable word coming out of his mouth is my name, jumbled in with a lot of broken Russian. It sounds like he's begging me to move, so I do, pulling out a little just so I can slide back in. I know I'm doing him good when his hips buck back to meet me and his voice gets harsh. I do it again, thrilled when he lets go one white-knuckle grip on the back of the sofa and reaches for me, instead.

I take our joined hands and wrap them around his cock, loving the way he feels moving through our fingers, loving the way his head falls back and he calls out my name like I'm the only thing that makes any sense.

Then it occurs to me I am fucking Alex Krycek. On my sofa.

At last. I must have dreamed of doing this a thousand times.

I am lost, fucking him with abandon, out of control. All I can feel is the way his body clings to me, his cock jerking in my hand, warm ejaculate making him slippery as his ass clamps down on me in arrhythmic spasms. His climax sets off my own and we're coming together. It's noisy, messy and raw ... and perfect. Absolutely perfect.

We end up sprawled lengthwise on the sofa, happily smearing the leather and each other with our sweat and come. Alex is holding me again and I'm looking forward, imagining years of us together, doing this over and over again, maybe in every room of the house.

"Good plan," Alex says. I hadn't realized I was speaking out loud, but I'm glad he agrees.

~~~~~

I stand outside of Starbucks and take a moment to gather myself before going in to face Scully. I'd tried to play down my nerves in front of Alex - actually, I hadn't given a lot of thought to anything but him - but now that the moment is upon me, I'm really fucking on edge about the upcoming conversation.

A couple of deep breaths and I shake myself down then walk in, muttering a Sun Tzu quote to myself. "To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill." Not that I think any amount of skill will get us through this without a fight. Bitter experience has taught me that any discussion about William leads to an argument between Scully and me. I spot her sitting at a table in the back corner of the room and head over to join her.

"Scully," say quietly, as I settle in the chair opposite her. "Merry Christmas."

"What's so important, Mulder?" Oh good, she's impatiently tapping her fingers on the tabletop, giving me that what-have-you-fucked-up-this-time look. "I have a houseful of guests waiting for me at home."

Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun.

"Good to see you too, Scully," I am definitely not in the mood for her bitchy, condescending attitude today. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Yes, I'm having a great Christmas. Best ever, actually. How about you?"

She looks more than a little shocked at my aggression. Then she sits back, giving me the patented tell-me-what's-wrong-and-I'll-tell-you-you're-overreacting look. "What's going on, Mulder?"

The "this time" part of the question is understood. "I'm involved with someone," I blurt out.

Okay, that's not too bad for a start, I think, as I watch her face settle into a kind of motherly amusement at my antics.

"And? What's the problem? Are you afraid William won't like her?"

"Him."

She looks a little bewildered for a beat, until the meaning of my word registers. "I... see." She settles back in her chair and frowns as she mulls the situation over. Finally, she clears her throat. "Mulder, surely you realize after all these years I've suspected that you... bat from both sides of the plate."

I simply stare at her, searching my mind for a way to tell her exactly who "him" is without loss of life or limb.

"If that's all," she starts to gather herself, preparatory to leaving. "Why don't you and-" She raises an eyebrow at me in question.

"Alex," I say. Actually, I more mumble his name.

"What?" She leans forward over the table in an effort to hear me.

"Alex," I say again. "His name is Alex."

She nods briskly. "Why don't you and Alex plan to have lunch with us when you come to pick up William this afternoon? I can't wait to meet him."

"You've met."

That stops her in her tracks. I watch as she frowns, obviously searching her memory. "I don't remember anyone... Did we meet him during a case?"

I clear my throat and shift uncomfortably. "Several, actually."

And, yeah, that does the trick. Her eyes are opening wide, staring at me with dawning horror. She collapses back into her chair. Has her face always worn that pinched up look when she's pissed? I realize that it's really quite unattractive.

"Oh no," she moans. "Mulder you can't mean-" Apparently she spots some confirmation in my eyes, because she's off and running. "Have you lost your mind? Mulder, Alex Krycek! That... that... " Clearly she can't come up with words awful enough to describe him at the moment. She shakes her head emphatically. "No. Absolutely not. My son is not going anywhere near that bastard. And if you try to bring him into my house I'll- "

I don't know what it is about Scully's tone of voice that raises the hackles on the back of my neck... okay, yes, I do know. I don't like hearing anyone talk about Alex in that way. I also realize that I am not willing to forgo a relationship with my son. I remember Alex's tone when he'd made only the vaguest allusion to his own childhood, and suddenly understand that if I let Scully separate me from my son it will hurt Alex in ways I just don't understand. Yet.

"William is my son too, Scully, and you're not going to be able to keep me away from him. And you really don't want to issue any ultimatums, because you're not going to like what rains down on your head."

"Are you threatening me, Mulder?"

"Nope." I don't threaten. At least, not when I don't have something to back it up with. I've learned that the hard way. "Just telling you how it's going to be."

"Telling me how it's going to be? Just exactly what does that mean, Mulder?" She's on her feet now, as I am, and we're leaning in toward each other, noses practically touching. "My son is not - "

"Our son, Scully. And, yes, he fucking well is."

"No, he's not. Mulder, are you insane? Have you forgotten everything?"

"S-sir, Ma'am, please!" A pimply-faced employee is standing close to us, clearly quite distressed at the loudness of our "discussion".

Scully flicks him a nasty look, but resumes her seat with a loud sigh.

"Sorry, kid. Ex-wife, custody dispute. You know how it is... Well, you don't know yet, but you will. Trust me, you will."

The kid looks at me doubtfully, but nods his thanks and scuttles away as fast as he can without actually breaking into a run. The other customers, both of them, are clearly eager to hear more, neither even bothering to hide their prurient interest.

"Forgotten." I finally murmur, having reseated myself. I run my hands over my face and release an explosive breath. She's not gonna like what I'm about to say, but, hell, she brought up the subject and, damnit, I've been holding this in for years. Years! I look up to meet her furious stare, and speak, "Scully, I haven't forgotten anything. Not one goddamned thing. I remember a partner who didn't believe in me for years. A partner who denied the evidence of her own fucking eyes time and time again. I remember, god, Scully, I remember a partner who had me in four point restraints rather than believe in me! And, I remember a man who always believed in me. Whatever else he might have done, Alex always believed!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Mulder, and you know it very well. I'm talking about what that man has done to us. To both of us, Mulder. He killed my sister!"

"Oh, please. You know as well as I do that he didn't-"

"That he didn't pull the trigger?" Her voice is rising and our audience is all agog, openly gaping at the turn the conversation has taken. "He was there. Right there, in the room. Legally speaking-"

"Scully," I break into her rant, really not up to listening to a recitation of Alex's crimes or the legalities involved. "Please, let's stick to the subject at hand."

"This is the subject at hand, Mulder. I will not have that man near my son."

"You don't have to be anywhere near him, Scully. I'll pick William up and- "

"No, Mulder, you won't. I'll be talking this over with my lawyer. Any judge will take one look at the things Alex has done and -"

"Oh for god's sake, Scully," I interrupt wearily. "You know as well as I do that if it comes down to it and you try to take legal action, Alex's record is clean. No judge will take away my parental rights because you don't approve of my lover. Don't put us in that position, Scully. Don't do that to our son."

"I'm not doing anything to our son! I don't care what his record says, you and I both know he's not clean, we both know what he is, what he's done, and is that the influence you want on your son?"

Actually, yeah. That's exactly the influence I want William exposed to. The boy is... different. Scully denies the possibility with all of her being, but I have accepted what is so, and it's time to start preparing my son for survival in a world where so many will want him dead. Or worse. Alex can teach William things I can't. If that will help keep my boy alive, I'm all for it.

Of course, I know better than to say any of this to Scully. Really, why bother? I am suddenly and completely weary of the entire scene. I just want to go home to Alex.

"Look, Scully. I'm not arguing this with you any longer. I'll be over to pick up my son as scheduled. If you refuse to allow me my visitation rights, I'll be forced to take legal action."

She sighs explosively, and I know from experience that's never a good thing. "I'm not going to stop you, Mulder. But I am going to talk to someone else I know, someone I trust, and see what his thoughts on the matter are."

Why do I have a feeling I don't want to know who that is?

I shrug. "Talk to whomever you like, Scully. I'm not changing my mind. Alex and I are in this for the long haul. You'll just have to learn to live with it."

"We'll see, Mulder," she says darkly.

"I take it the lunch invitation is rescinded?"

"You bet your sweet ass it is."

That went well.

~~~~~

"Yeah," I hear Alex saying as I enter the house. "He just came in. Here." And he holds the phone out for me, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hello?" I say breathlessly into the receiver.

"Mulder."

I release a slightly bitter laugh. "She called you from her car, didn't she?"

"I'm on my way to her house now." Skinner sounds remarkably calm, all things considered. But then, he generally does. The worse the situation, the calmer his voice. Despite myself, I'm soothed by the sound.

I sigh, raising one hand to rub at my now-aching head. "Walter..."

"Mulder, let me tell you what I plan to tell her when I get there before you get defensive."

"I'm listening." Holding my breath, too, but I won't mention that to him. Besides, I'm sure he knows.

"You've always had a thing for Krycek and she shouldn't use William as a way to get back at you about it."

"I... you... You *knew*?"

A sigh. "Yes, Mulder. I knew."

"But... But I didn't even know myself until the day before yesterday."

He snorts. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Look, Mulder, I'm just pulling up in front of Scully's place now. I'll talk to you later."

And he disconnects.

~~~~~

I'm not surprised that Skinner is still at Scully's house. I am a little surprised that he answers the door, though.

"Mulder," he greets me with his usual brusque tone.

"Good afternoon, S- uh, Walter."

"Is that him?" I hear Scully ask.

"Yes," Walter says over his shoulder, standing so that he blocks my view of the interior hall.

He can't block my hearing, though. "Where is he?" I hear Bill Scully's voice. "I want to talk to that-"

A woman's voice makes shushing noises, and Bill quiets.

Walter shrugs and offers me a vaguely sympathetic look.

"Yay!" My son's glee at my arrival is made quite apparent. "Dad's here. I gotta go. Bye Grandma. Bye Uncle Bill."

And he comes racing out, ducking past Skinner to throw his arms around my legs in a quick greeting. "Did Santa come to your house, too, Dad? He came here. I got LOTS of presents. Do I have more at your house? Huh? Do I?"

I can't help smiling. Damn, I'm glad I didn't just back down on this issue. I love my kid. I really, really do.

"Here." I look up to see Scully standing there, a frozen expression on her face as she holds out William's overnight bag. "I'll expect him home tomorrow evening." With that, she turns and walks back into the house.

Well. I guess there were good reasons for her old nickname at the Bureau. Ice Queen, indeed.

I look at Skinner, and he's wearing a rather rueful smile. "I'm still... discussing the situation with her."

"Good luck with that, Walt."

He shrugs again, waves goodbye to William, and goes back inside.

Once William and I are on our way, and I've dodged quite a few questions designed to make me reveal exactly how many gifts are waiting for him at my house, how big they are, and what might be in them, I carefully broach the subject of Alex.

"Hey, son?"

He pauses in his enthusiastic singing. "Yeah, Dad?"

"I, um, I have a house guest."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. His name is Alex."

A moment of silence, then William asks, "Is he nice?"

"Well, yes. I think he's nice."

"Do I have to share my room with him?"

"No, son."

"Okay, Dad," he answers, then returns to his rather off-key rendition of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer".

Why can't everything be this simple?

~~~~~

I get home from the grocery store, feeling vaguely guilty about the fully-loaded bag from McDonald's. Scully always frowned upon feeding our son fast food. But, you know what? Fuck it.

Just outside of the kitchen door I pause at the sound of voices within. This is the first time I've heard William speak directly to Alex. Damned if I'm going to interrupt what could be a very important conversation between them. I've been hoping for this since William and I got home earlier this afternoon.

"Where's my Dad?"

"Um, he went to the store."

"Oh."

"Uncle Walter says that you're my dad's boyfriend."

Uncle Walter? Well, well, isn't that an interesting development. Suddenly things make just a little more sense.

"Well, I suppose your... uncle is right."

"Do I have to call you "uncle" now?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Huh. Well, you're not really my uncle, right?"

"Nope."

"So... what do I call you?"

"How about Alex? It's my name."

"Huh. Okay. Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Mom was crying earlier."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm about to rush in to save the day when I hear Alex hesitantly answer.

"...was she?"

"Yeah. Then Uncle Walter came over and she yelled some. Then she cried more."

"I see. My mom used to do that, too."

"What? Cry? Or yell?"

"Both."

"Oh. I, um. I didn't like it."

"I never liked it either, kid."

"What did you used to do? When your mom cried?"

"Mostly, I'd hide in my room 'til she stopped."

"That's what I did."

Silence for a moment. I'm on my way in when William speaks again.

"D'you think it was my fault she cried?"

Oh, god no.

"No, William. In fact, I know it wasn't your fault."

"You do?"

"Yep."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Do kids still say that?"

I'm near tears here. My son should never know even a hint of the guilt I carried through my childhood. I never want him to think any of the problems his parents have are his fault.

"Sometimes," William says, giggling. "Alex?"

I hold my breath, waiting for the next question.

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry."

My breath explodes from me with an audible rush. No help for it now. I walk in, holding up the McDonald's bag like a shield. "Hey you two. I got food."

"I'm gonna have to teach you how to cook, Fox," Alex says, shaking his head. William's eyes get round and I think he's waiting for me to give Alex hell for using my name. When I don't, William gives Alex a look I'd call appraising on an older face.

"Can you really cook, Alex?" he asks doubtfully and Alex sniffs exaggeratedly, buffing his nails on his shirt.

"Better than that clown." He points in my direction. I set the bag down and put my hands on my hips, sparing a wink for my son.

"You talking about me or Ronald McDonald?" I challenge, gratified when William starts giggling again. Alex flashes me a delighted smile, clearly pleased about getting William to laugh, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I realize everything is going to be all right.

We're going to be all right. All three of us.

End


End file.
